Twinfluenza
by Ishkie
Summary: Hermione and the twins are stretched to the breaking point taking care of a sick batch of Weasleys. Can Hermione last when the twins get sick themselves? And maybe, just maybe, taking care of them will help Hermione see them in a new light.
1. A Bug at the Burrow

**Disclaimer: Unless I'm very much mistaken, anything that you recognize belongs to JK Rowling.**

**Chapter One**

Summer had just started, and it didn't look like it would be very fun. Hermione - after spending a few weeks traveling in India with her parents - had just arrived at the Burrow, only to find things had gone to hell in a hand basket. Harry wasn't able to make it, security issues and all that, and most of the Weasleys had come down with a magical strain of the flu.

Hermione, with a sigh and a nod, had decided to stay and help take care of them. There wasn't much else she could do; Mrs. Weasley, Charlie, Fred and George were up to their eyeballs taking care of the rest of their family, and Hermione felt it was the least she could do to help. Of course, after dropping their precious daughter off her parents had promptly hopped a plane to Morocco, so there wasn't anywhere else she could go at any rate.

The first thing she had asked was something along the lines of "Well, aren't there spells or potions for this?", and she was promptly informed that magical diseases needed to be treated in the Muggle way, since _magical_ diseases would absorb any _magical_ treatment. Put out that she knew nothing about this, she set to work researching right away. Her findings supported what they had said:

_Though non-magical diseases can be treated by any method, Magical or Muggle, a flu of Magical origin (see ''Intentional or Accidental Spells with Sickness Inducing Primary or Secondary Effects") can only be treated by non-magic ways. Any Magical method, be it potions or charms, will only be absorbed by the disease, feeding it. This can either prolong or increase the symptoms, causing much discomfort to the victim. Since Muggle methods offer no magical sustenance to the disease, it will eventually fade. _

_The most well-known exception is the Black Charm (called 'Bubonic Plague' by some Muggles), which was caused by a spell cast by the Dark Witch (see "'The Queen': Catherine the Dark Witch"), and could only be cured by Magical means. Consequently, millions of Muggles died from… _

Hermione shut the book with a snap. Then, realising it would actually be very good supplemental reading for History of Magic, she went back through to find her page, bookmarked it, and snapped it shut again.

"What did that poor book ever do to you?" a voice asked from the doorway. Without looking, Hermione could tell who it was. Well, kind of.

"George?" she asked, turning around on the bottom bunk of the twins' bed, which she had been sitting on. He shook his head, smiling slightly.

"Fred then," she said. He shook his head again, and Hermione sighed in exasperation. He laughed.

"Yes, yes, I am Fred," he said with a grin. "I think," he added, suddenly looking very thoughtful. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"They have potions for people like you," she said, trying to keep a straight face. Fred put a hand to his chest, as though she had wounded him deeply.

"Your words, such bitter words! How they sting and burn!" he moaned, falling theatrically over her lap. She pushed him, causing him to roll off the bed and onto the floor. He stood back up, rubbing his elbow and smiling ruefully.

"Shouldn't you be helping your mum?" Hermione asked, looking behind him through the doorway and into the hall. It occurred to her that this was the most quiet the house had been since she arrived over six hours ago.

"I'm off duty," he said with a sigh, plopping down beside her. The worn springs of his mattress creaked under his weight as he bounced up and down slightly.

"Poor thing," Hermione said in her best imitation of Mrs. Weasley, "Would you like some tea? Fruit juice? We can't have you getting sick, now." Fred shuddered involuntarily.

"Even the mere mention of juice makes me gag. Did you know that's what mum's been feeding us off of? I've haven't had much else for days," he said seriously. Hermione smiled uncertainly, unable to tell if that was a joke. "Well, that and some gruel dad gave her the recipe for called 'health batter'," he added, shuddering again. "Do Muggles really eat that stuff? It's disgusting." Hermione shrugged.

"I suppose some do, but I've never heard-"

"Ha!" Fred exclaimed, cutting her off. "I knew it! I told dad there was no way that anyone would eat that, and Muggles had more sense!" Hermione wasn't quite sure what to say to that, and was spared having to answer by another person bounding into the room.

"George!" the incoming twin exclaimed. Hermione whipping around to face whichever twin she had been talking to.

"Fred," he corrected with a grin.

"Fred!" George (or was it really George? It was becoming difficult to keep them straight) exclaimed.

"You can't even keep yourselves in order!" Hermione said huffily.

"Of course we can," Fred said in mock indignation.

"We just can't tell which is which," George added.

With another huff (those twins could be so _very_ annoying) Hermione flounced out of the room to help Mrs. Weasley do whatever she needed help with.

**A/N: Hi all, I just wanted to get this story off the ground. The beginning is a bit short, but hopefully the chapters will get longer. I'm going to try and update either this or War of the Weasleys every week, and hopefully both. Please review!**


	2. Of Jitters and Juices

**Chapter 2**

For over an hour Hermione helped Mrs. Weasley make and deliver homemade orange juice. By the time she had finished getting the juice to Ron (on the top floor), Bill (on the first floor) had polished off the juice and was ready for the mug to be taken away. She spent another fifteen minutes collecting the cups and mugs, bringing them downstairs, and letting Mrs. Weasley wash them. At least that could be done with magic, she thought with a sigh.

As she continued this pattern for the rest of the day she realized Fred hadn't been joking; they only consumed juice. In large quantities of course, but juice all the same. When she pointed this out Mrs. Weasley waved her away impatiently (you would be impatient too if you had been making juice all day), saying something along the lines of: "Nonsense. They got oatmeal for lunch and they'll get soup for dinner."

More unfortunately, Hermione realised that just because she wasn't sick she didn't get a different diet. Mrs. Weasley was convinced that if Hermione didn't adhere strictly to the non-solids rule she would get sick as well, and that would never do. At least Hermione agreed with that part; she didn't want to spend her vacation in bed. Then again, she hadn't wanted to spend her vacation taking care of people in bed...

Hermione (while making, of all things, more juice) was quite busy musing on this when someone tapped her shoulder. She gave a start and turned around, surprised to see George. Or Fred. One of them, at any rate.

"Would you like me to take over that?" he asked, and she gratefully handed over the juicer. She then turned to leave, and he looked at her incredulously. "Well?" he asked. She looked at him in confusion. "Aren't you supposed to offer your thanks, than say that it isn't really any trouble? Then you say that you aren't tired of it, and you'll be glad to continue, and quite possibly ask how I'm getting on. Then-"

"You've been thinking about this too much," Hermione said delicately, "And besides, you shouldn't have offered if you weren't willing to hold it up." George (for it was, indeed, George) grinned.

"Fair enough. Juice?" he asked sweetly, holding out a freshly squeezed cup. Hermione shuddered.

"No, thank you. Now I know where you were coming from earlier; I'm positively sick of it." George nodded sympathetically.

"And you've only been here for a day. I've been dealing with this for almost a week," he said. Hermione shuddered again, and patted him on the shoulder.

"Well, it's already been awhile, so they're bound to get better soon," she said, trying to be positive. Even as she said it, though, she looked doubtful.

"So," George asked, deciding to change the subject, "Why haven't you asked which one I am yet?" Hermione shrugged.

"I can ask and you can answer, but does that really tell me anything?" she replied. George smiled.

"No, I suppose not. Well, at least you've narrowed it down to only two of us, imagine if you confused me with Ron." He shuddered again, this time in obvious jest. Hermione pushed his shoulder half-heartedly.

"Well, you are right, we can't have that. I mean, some people obviously can't measure up to men like _Ron_…" She stopped as George held the juice above her head in mock threat. She laughed, and he joined in.

"Measure down, s'more like it," he said, putting down the juice.

"And you would know, little brother?" Charlie asked languidly, coming in to the kitchen. George immediately handed him an orange.

"Mum said that you were to take over the juicing," he said with a straight face, while Hermione snorted. Charlie raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think mum said anything of the sort," he said, ignoring the orange and sitting on the worn stone counter-top. George sighed with disappointment and began working again.

"Well, it was worth a shot," he muttered. Charlie looked like he was about to reply, but started coughing.

"Charlie?" Hermione asked uncertainly. He kept coughing.

"Charlie, old man?" George asked, thumping him on the back. He quieted down after a moment, sneezing. George sighed again.

"Hermione, you give him some juice. I'll go tell mum there's another one down." He bounded out of the room, and Charlie looked at Hermione forlornly. She poured him some juice, and then, after checking that no one else was looking, cut him off a piece of bread from the loaf in the corner. He accepted it gratefully and wolfed it down before his mum could see it.

"Where are you going to sleep?" Hermione asked, curious. Since all of the Weasley children were back for the summer the house was very full, and sleeping arrangements for the sick were complicated.

"Well, I guess I'll set up a cot in Percy's room. The twins are staying in their room, Ron's room is too bright for me, Bill is already staying in Ginny's room, and dad is in his room. Where are you staying?" he asked, coughing again. Hermione shrugged.

"On the couch in the living room, I suppose." Charlie shook his head.

"Mum already is staked out over there. She-"

"Why, you'll be staying with us then, won't you?" one of the twins asked, coming up behind them and slinging his arms over Hermione's shoulders. Hermione smiled weakly. She was very fond of the twins, however annoying they might be, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to stay with them while she was _sleeping_. She had no doubts that she would become the victim (er, test-subject) of their latest experiment.

"We promise to be good," Fred said, grinning wickedly in a none too reassuring manner.

**A/N: I am floored by all of you awesome reviewers! I'm so sorry the chapter is so short, but it's just getting warmed up. I'll do reviewer shout-outs next chapter! Please review, because it makes me want to give up my mornings (like I am now) to get up a chapter as soon as possible!**


	3. Leaps of Faith and Leprechauns

**Chapter 3 **

"We promise to be good," Fred said, grinning wickedly in a none too reassuring manner.

That did it. Hermione panicked, looking around her quickly. She didn't want to be in a house full of sick people, no matter how much she liked them, under any circumstances; she definitely didn't want to be in a house full of sick people without knowing whether or not she would come out in one piece.

"No! Er, no, thank you, I'm sure there's some other room to stay in," she said in a high pitched voice. Fred looked at George.

"It's almost like she doesn't trust us," he said, shaking his head. George sighed.

"That's the problem with kids these days. No trust," he replied. Hermione didn't miss the wink that passed between them.

"It's just, er, are you sure your mum would be all right with that?" she asked desperately.

"Mum trusts us!" Fred said indignantly. George looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, well, I suppose she doesn't."

"But we can change that," George put in, grinning. "After all, our room is one of the three safe zones in the house. But I suppose you could sleep in the kitchen if you wanted to." Hermione decidedly did _not _want to sleep in the kitchen, but she also doubted anything to do with the twins' room was safe.

"Or the living room, but then you'd need to put up with mummy dearest," Fred added. Hermione sighed, wishing that she could have stayed with her parents after all.

She really was in a predicament. On one hand there were the twins, and any horrors their room might contain. It was one thing to spend some time reading in there, and quite another to _sleep_ there, completely defenseless. Then, on the other hand, there was Mrs. Weasley. Molly was a nice woman, truly she was, but she was stretched so thin taking care of all her children (and husband) that she was possibly more dangerous than the twins. At least anything the twins did could be reversed magically, right?

"Fine," she said with a sigh, "If you can convince your mum, I'll stay with you."

---

That night, as Hermione trudged down the hall to the twins' room, she was rethinking her decision. She had been surprised Mrs. Weasley had agreed, but then again, as frazzled as she was she probably didn't even know what she had been agreeing to. Maybe there was still time to switch - she could stay with Ginny! A very sick Ginny, but Ginny all the same…No.That was a sure way to get sick. She would make it through this without catching the bug, and if that meant pink hair (or no hair) for a few days, then so be it.

Hermione knocked, and the door creaked open menacingly. She rolled her eyes and stepped inside. As she crossed the threshold there was a loud pop, and a thick green smoke started filling the room.

"Quick! Open the window!" Fred yelled. George complied, throwing open the window and fanning the smoke outside.

"I told you to add the leprechaun hair _before_ the porcupine quills!" Fredsnapped, sounding eerily like Professor Snape. Apparently, even with the creaking door, they hadn't noticed her. George shrugged.

"Well, we got _something_," he said, gesturing at the remainders of the smoke.

"What do you think it does?" Fred asked, annoyance vanishing as he examined it as closely as possible, careful not to touch it. George shrugged again, looking at the smoke sideways. They shared a quick grin.

Hermione realised what George was going to do a second before he did it.

"No! That could be dang-" she was cut off as George stuck his entire head into the smoke and breathed deeply. There was a cracking sound, much like the noise someone made when Apparating, and he turned into a very, very large leprechaun. Fred burst into laughter.

"See," he said, turning to Hermione (whose yelling seemed to have alerted him to her presence). "No harm done." The leprechaun whacked his arm, but Fred pretended not to notice. "An improvement, if anything...We need to remember this one." He picked up a tattered piece of parchment from his bedside table and scribbled down a few notes. George the leprechaun sat on the floor, playing with a tassel on his bright green coat.

"Are ye goin' to be changin' me back?" he asked in a thick Irish brogue a good two octaves higher than it would normally be. Fred looked over at him and giggled.

"Maybe I will, maybe I wo-" The leprechaun whacked him again, this time harder. Fred laughed before waving his wand, muttering a spell. George changed slowly back, but kept his pointy ears and green coat. They looked at each other once again before bursting into laughter (they seemed to do that a lot, Hermione noted dryly), andslapping each other on the shoulder.

"Well done, well done!" Fred said. "This will be one for the market."

---

Another ten minutes later (in which all traces of smoke were cleared from the room – it wouldn't do for one of them to turn into leprechaun overnight) the three of them had changed into their pajamas (Hermione in a separate room, of course), and were trying to sort out the sleeping situation (which really was turning into quite a hassle).

"Hermione, you can have the bed," Fred said graciously. George nodded.

"Yes. You can kip on Fred's bunk,"he said. Fred shook his head.

"George's bunk. He can sleep on the floor." George shook his head.

"No, no. You offered, so she can take-" he stopped, as Fred was apparently not listening. As a matter of fact,Fred was halfway up to the top bunk already. "Oh no you don't!" he muttered, grabbing Fred around the legs and pulling him backwards. They fell on the floor and immediately started bickering, their arguments punctuated by pokes and prods.

Hermione watched them quarrel for awhile. Then, when it became obvious they weren't going to get anywhere with this anytime soon, she sighed and curled up on the bottom bunk. She pulled the worn green blankets up to her chin, and with the moon as her nightlight she was lulled to sleep by squabbling twins.

**A/N: There you are, so sorry it took so long to update! I thought that I would have it done by last week, but I kept getting writer's block. At least this is a bit longer...And for those reading both of my fics, War of the Weasleys should be updated by Sunurday or so. ****Anyway, not too much about the sickness, but it'll come back in later chapters. Oh, and the leprechaun thing wasn't completely random (hint). **

**As for the shout-outs, I decided that I had too many WONDERFUL reviewers to do individual ones without making the chapter seem longer than it is. I hope you understand that I really appreciate them, even if I don't do the shout-outs. Speaking of which, please review, it makes me want to update!**


	4. Soup and Squawking

**Chapter 4**

Hermione awoke with a start and quickly checked to see if she was in one piece. No missing limbs, no extra limbs, no oddly disfigured limbs…In fact, she noted after a moment of intense examination, there didn't seem to be anything wrong with her at all.

She breathed a sigh of relief and rolled over on the creaky mattress, looking out the window. It was still dark_. No wonder there isn't anything wrong with me_, she thought with a groan, _they're probably still asleep, and haven't gotten around to it_.

Hermione shifted again to see which twin had got the floor. She would have taken it gladly, it was their room after all, but she had been too exhausted to bother getting one of them to summon a sleeping bag. So, which twin _had _won…?

Neither of them, apparently. They were both asleep in a tangle on the floor; it looked like exhaustion had overcome them before they finished their argument. Hermione smiled as she imagined both of them suddenly keeling over and snoring. How they managed to sleep in such an uncomfortable position, she couldn't guess, but she figured if anyone could do it they could.

She smiled again as she leaned back into her pillow, hoping to get a few hours more sleep.

* * *

When Hermione woke up, again, she rolled over on to her side to check on the twins. She started violently when she saw both of them sitting on the floor, cross-legged, staring at her. They both grinned wickedly (they did that an _awful _lot) at the same time.

Hastily Hermione checked herself again, trying to figure out what they had done. Nothing seemed wrong, but there _had_ to be something…

She grew more and more agitated as the twins continued to look at her as though she was a lab specimen. A very bizarre and creative lab specimen.

"All right, what did you do?" she asked at last, and the twins shared a look. _That_ kind of look. The 'WeDidn'tDoAnythingReallyWeSwearGiggleMadly' kind of look.

"Nothing," they chorused. Again with the _look. _Hermione snorted.

"I believe you as much as…" she trailed off and paused, "Well, it's too early to think of something, but the point is I don't believe you." They looked hurt.

"Don't…believe us?"

"Haven't we proven ourselves trustworthy?"

"Time and time again?"

"Your own _friends_…"

"…and she doesn't believe us."

They shook their heads. Hermione snorted again.

"Trustworthy, you say? I'm not even going to begin with that one. Why don't you just tell me what you did so you can fix it, and then we can get on with helping your mum?" As if on cue there was a crash from somewhere downstairs, followed shortly by a small scream of exasperation.

The twins stood up and made their way to the door.

"Well, we can't fix it-" Hermione's eyes widened, "Because we didn't _do_ anything." They giggled, and quickly scrambled out of the room before Hermione could get out of bed. She sank back into the covers, knowing that she wouldn't catch them now.

* * *

An hour later found Hermione violently stuffing soup into Ron's mouth, deaf to his complaints that it was getting everywhere.

"And then it turned out there really _was_ nothing wrong…"

"Please! Sto-" Ron coughed.

"…And they just _pretended_ like they did something…"

"You don't have to take it out on m-"

"…Unless they really DID to something, and I just haven't noticed what it is yet…"

"Hermione!" Ron yelled in that hoarse way sick people yell, "please!" That brought her back to the present, and she looked around at all of the sloshed soup on the coverlet.

"Oh, Ron, I'm sorry!" she said, mopping it up. He looked around, nauseated.

"Urgh…" he moaned. Hermione flopped back on her chair.

"This is terrible!" she moaned. Ron nodded miserably. "I mean, really! To stay with them! If they get sick I'm sure it will be just to spite me…" Ron didn't say anything, which was probably for the best.

* * *

After the lunch time rush Hermione trudged slowly back to her room, looking forward to a quick nap. She really should have known better.

When she opened the door the twins were back at their cauldron, making something that smelled like a cross between cabbage and peppermint. The room was filled with soft chirping sounds (which seemed to be coming from the cauldron), and the twins were conversing in low tones.

Hermione looked at them furtively and made her way to the bed. She curled up under the covers, and had just closed her eyes when there was a very loud squawk. This was followed by the ominous sound of a cauldron tipping over (she had learnt the sound well after so many years of Potions with Neville), and a crash.

"No…" Hermione groaned quietly to herself, but if she was upset it was nothing to what Fred and George were.

"Stop them!"

"They took months!"

"Stop them!"

"Get out of there!" Apparently the…things, Hermione had yet to look and see what they were, had made their way into the twins' Finished Products basket.

"Stop them!" Fred (she guessed it was Fred) yelled in a much more frantic tone. "They have the Leprechaun tablets!"

_They made them into _tablet_ form?_ Hermione thought in horror. Her desire to eat nothing they had been anywhere near increased rapidly.

"Not the Leprecha-" Cough. There was a silence, which was broken only by squawking at random intervals. The moment dragged on as the three of them waited to see if George would cough again. They had almost let out their breath when there it was again. Cough.

Cough cough cough. Cough. Hack.

"Bloody hell," Hermione said, burying her face as far as it would go into the blankets. "Just…bloody hell."

* * *

**A/N: ...I am so sorry. Muse died. But I think I got back on track with the last half of this...but I won't promise a quicker update. If I promise it'll just make it worse. > **

Well, the twins (at least one of them)are sick. So far the story has been one long prologue, and I think I'm finally getting around to the plot. More single twin and Hermione interaction, and some individual personality will start to emerge. Speaking of which, which twin should finally get the girl (Hermione, for those who haven't been following the story very closely)? Fred or George? Leave me your vote in a REVIEW, and the twin with the most votes wins! ...or just review. Please?


	5. Conversation and Leprechaunization

**Chapter 5**

The Burrow was strangely silent the next morning. Well, sure there was the occasional cough, but there wasn't any screaming or explosions. Even the ghoul in the attic had caught the bug and wasn't making a racket. Hermione knew it was because one of the twins was down for the count.

Fred, instead of compensating for his twin's inactivity, like Hermione thought he would do, became just as quiet as George. She supposed that he now considered himself marked, and that it was just a matter of time. Either that or he was bound and determined for her not to be able to tell the difference between them for as long as possible. She supposed that was more likely.

That, or-

"Hermione." She was jerked out of her musings, and faced with a somber looking Fred.

"Fred," she greeted, giving him a small smile in acknowledgement. She could tell them apart! At last! Of course, it had taken a disease forcing one of them into bed to do it, but at least she could greet them without worry.

"You want to get the top two floors? I'll take the first and second." Fred was, of course, referring to the juice, which needed to be...

_Wait a moment_, Hermione thought to herself. _He's talking about juice. He's talking about approaching this mess in an organised fashion. He's…being serious._

"You're…being serious," she said out loud, clearly surprised. He raised his eyebrow and looked at her in mild annoyance.

"This is no time to joke-" Hermione barely contained her gasp, "-This is a serious time. Do you have _any_ idea what will happen if those Leprechaun Tablets get in to the water supply?" he said with a resigned sigh. Hermione was taken aback.

"Er, we'll all turn in to leprechauns?" she asked, hazarding a guess.

"Exactly! And do you know what's even worse than being sick?" he didn't wait for her to answer, and continued, "Being a sick leprechaun! They cough up hairballs, you know."

Hermione, who had read an awful lot of books in her time, had admittedly never run across anything about sick leprechauns. She therefore had no prior knowledge to compare this statement to. Still, she took what he said with a grain of salt.

"Oh?" she asked skeptically.

"And they sneeze gold. Not even real gold, either, that disappearing stuff. Have you ever had metal forced out your _nose_?" he asked, getting slightly hysterical.

"Have you?" Hermione asked, skeptically again. It was awfully hard for her to take this as seriously as Fred was.

"Don't ask, really," he muttered, looking pained.

"Well, I'll keep an eye out for those bird things and the tablets then," she said, steering the conversation away from one where she honestly couldn't tell whether she was being toyed with or not. "Say, what were those things, anyway?"

"Erm…" he mumbled, looking skyward.

"Yes, Fred Weasley?" Hermione asked. _What had they _done

"I'm not sure, actually. We conjured them, or something."

_Or something? This doesn't sound good._

"Well, if they're conjured then they should disappear; conjured things don't usually last for very long," she said busily.

"I think they were conjured. There was an awful lot going on in the cauldron, and I'm not sure which spells we used…"

"What have you done?" Hermione asked, narrowly resisting the urge to bang her head against the wall.

"George did some of it too!" Fred said indignantly.

"I meant you as in the collective sense; the Fred and George block," she said, massaging her temples.

"We aren't a block!" Fred said, frowning.

"Not a cube, obviously," _I don't want to be having this conversation right now, I want to get to work_, "It's a turn of phr-"

"Everyone thinks of us as a single entity," Fred said, cutting her off. This was the most that Hermione had seen him frown since that Bagman incident fourth year. "We are very different. We're _individuals_. Why can't anyone see that?" It was Hermione's turn to get a bit hysterical.

"Every day since I arrived neither of you would tell me who you _were_," she started. "You can barely keep track of yourselves, and you ask other people to sort you out?" Fred looked pensive for a moment.

"Valid points, valid points. Maybe when this is all done, I'll tell you the secret of how to tell us apart," he said calmly. Hermione was taken aback. She had expected him to argue, or defend his position a bit more. Odd.

"That would be nice," she said cautiously.

"In the meantime, care to join me for some juice?" he asked. Hermione made a face, and Fred grinned.

* * *

On the top floor Ron took a sip of his water. Then, all of a sudden, he felt very, _very _strange.

**A/N: I don't deserve you lovely, lovely reviewers! Over a 100! Wow! And here I am with this pathetic short chapter for you wonderful people...sigh. I won't even try to make excuses, I'll just say that I'm trying my hardest to update as soon as I can. The next chapter should be longer, because I have a plan! **

**And for those reading War of the Weasleys, I'll try and update soon. My muse for that is even...deader. On the bright side I have the prologuesfor two new fics, one FW/HG and the other FW OR DM/HG. I know I have a problem with starting stories and then leaving them, but I really do have bunches of ideas for both of those. I think I'll post the prologues today, and work on the one that gets the most reviews. **

**Speaking of which, please review! I PROMISE shorter update time/longer chapter next time!**


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